


The Strength of Two

by TakeninStride



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 06:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10679286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeninStride/pseuds/TakeninStride
Summary: Courage comes at a cost.





	The Strength of Two

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Skadventuretime for being my lovely beta. <3  
> I hope you

If you ask Soul Evans if he has any superpowers, he would say for certain that he does. But he won’t tell you about how he can turn into a literal fucking scythe, nor about the way he is able to command the rhythm of a fight with an improvised melody from the piano in his mind. While he might cite his cool-kid aesthetic as being ‘super,’ if you ask him in earnest, he will tell you that his power is being able to read his meister like she reads Austen.

“Maka?” His knuckles slide softly down the door as he cracks it open. Her room is just as dark as the rest of the apartment he had come home to. 

_He’d known something was up when she wasn’t there to greet him in Strats. That she didn’t show at all meant one of three possibilities. The first, and least likely, was that she’d been kidnapped by Death City’s flavor-of-the-week hooligan. When she wasn’t back in time for ReesThees he knew that that was off the table. Not even Asura himself could keep Albarn out of the class she helped teach. He glanced at his phone and could tell that the second option was out, as well. She wouldn’t be starting her cycle until the weekend, and even if it had come early he’d have her signature period text awaiting him in his notification feed. Since she wasn’t demanding Ghiradelli and a can of pickled beets, he knew what he was dealing with._

_He gave Stein a two-fingered salute, simultaneously letting the professor know he’d be riding solo for the lecture and that Soul would be making up the lesson one-on-one with his roomie later._

She’s exactly where he expects: under a sizeable mound of comforters, tucked into the corner of her bed and the wall.

“Is it okay for me to be here?” he asks gently.

She doesn’t respond but he knew she wouldn’t. If she wanted to be alone, she would have already made that apparent. He sits at the edge of her bed and adjusts his wavelength to match hers—it’s erratic and spiraling and he can feel his body respond to the change. He is suddenly tense, his heart-rate increases, and he feels like he’s choking on nothing. But he’s done this before. It takes some time but eventually he’s able to coax their wavelength into something kind of steady.

Maka finally moves. She attempts to push the blankets off of her to no avail. Soul reaches out and peels them off and unveils her puffy cheeks and frayed hair.

“Hey.” He pushes her skewed bangs up off her forehead.

“…Hey.” She looks away from him, a tinge of color brightening her pale cheeks. Her embarrassment quickly melts into guilt and it spikes between them.

“Hey,” he coos again, softer, “it’s alright.”

“I missed class.”

“I miss class all the time, it’s fine. All the professors know you’ll make up the work and I’m pre-e-e-etty sure I saw you rereading the Kishin Psyche chapters for a third time last night. You know you’re two weeks ahead of the rest of us, right?”

“I missed Resonance Theory.”

“Pretty sure Stein was gone twice last week,” he supplies.

“Yeah, but—“

“—but even qualified, trained, and tenured professors gotta miss class sometimes, Maks. I let Stein know you weren’t gunna be there today, it’s cool.”

Maka huffs at him, “It’s the _opposite_ of cool, Soul. I’m responsible for teaching you guys, I can’t just NOT show up!”

“It’s not like you were goofing off all day…” he says tenderly. “Besides, no one’s going to hold it against you. Sure, you’re easier to keep up with than that old quack, but we’ve all gotten used to his style by now.”

“Still.”

Soul mimics her pout and is rewarded with a strained smile. She smacks his shoulder with the back of her hand. 

They fall into silence but he’s quick to break it. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She sighs deeply and rolls onto her side, facing the wall once more. “It’s not any different from before.”

“You’re worried about Crona?” he tries.

She nods.

“Feeling guilty about distancing and demonizing your dad for so long?”

She groans. “Yeah.”

“That you have anything to do with your mom not being here for you?”

She sighs again, “I know...”

“That you are definitely repressing romantic feelings towards me—“

She snorts, “Okay don’t start projecting, pretty boy. Besides, how would that even hold up against all the other shit I’m anxious about?”

He grins at the endearment, sarcastic as it was. “You never know: little things add, tiny tits. Containing your undying love for your best friend and totally awesome partner seems like it would be pretty taxing.”

“Is that why you can’t sleep at night?” she teases back.

He rolls his eyes for good measure. “Definitely. Anyway, you know that Crona’s doing better. The surgery went well, now they don’t have to put up with Ragnarok’s abuse anymore. And your dad?”

“I know. We’re going to see that new movie on Sunday.” She doesn’t sound entirely enthusiastic but it’s because Spirit is dragging her out to the latest bastardization of a beloved book series. (The reviews for it are coming in steamy). (Shit-steamy).

“And I hope you believe me when I say that you are not a burden on the people you care about. You, Maka Albarn, are a God. Damned. Delight. to be around.” He pokes her arm for extra emphasis. “I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

Soul claims that his superpower is being able to read Maka. If you asked her, though, she’d say that he’s able to cheer her up on her worst days by making her laugh until she feels something close to normal again.

“Soul,” she starts after the lull, serious and solemn once more. “I… I feel like I can’t keep up with anyone still. I’m so scared that I’m going to lose someone… that I’ll lose _you_. I know we’re all working towards becoming smarter and stronger every day, but… casualties aren’t impossible. When I thought the Kishin got you, when I thought I was the only one left—I-… It was almost too much. I was terrified and I don’t know how I managed to find the strength to get back on my feet. I feel so weak. I know I shouldn’t compare… I just, I wish I could do more.”

Soul nods along, listening attentively. When she finishes putting a voice behind her fears, she’s clenching the sheets so hard she’s trembling. He tries comforting her by rubbing circles onto the edge of her thigh. He’s not sure what he can say to reassure her at first—he’s had similar feelings before though. Once he has his thoughts together, he taps her leg to get her attention. Her cheeks are streaked with some fresh tears when she turns to face him. It twists his chest to see her so distraught. He’s never been very good at this, but he tries anyway. 

“The thing about working in teams is that we all have our own strengths and we’ve got each other’s backs. Like that, we can make up where others fall short. That being said though, you’re incredible on your own Maka. You don’t think you can compare to Kid or Black*Star because they’ve got freaky super powers… but you do too. Your ability to see souls and your special wavelength is something that no one else can do. They’ve saved us and a bunch of civilians more times than I can count. You and I? We’ve all but mastered resonance, and it takes two to tango. If you can match yourself to _this hot mess_ I have no doubt you’d be able to clean up shop with any weapon. You’re tenacious, and courageous and honestly? You **make** me strong. I couldn’t have become a death scythe without you. Hell, I can hardly get out of bed most days without you. You inspire everyone to be better whether you’re trying to or not. You—“

He’s about to continue his praise-train when Maka throws the discarded blankets over him. “I-I get it…”

“In conclusion: you’re awesome.”

“That’s enough.”

“Footnote: you’re the best meister.”

“STOP!”

 

 

“Love you.”

She kicks him off the bed and mumbles under her breath. He only hears “—you, too,” as he struggles to free himself from his blanket prison, but it’s enough.

“Is there anything else that’s been bothering you, lately?” he asks, just to be certain.

She thinks, but shakes her head. “Just you.” She slips off the bed to help him back onto his feet. Once up, he wastes no time in ruffling her hair into an even bigger disaster.

“I could leave,” he offers lightly.

“No,” her tone is soft. She thanks him with a kiss on the cheek. “But I can think of one thing you can do, if you’re feeling up to it?”

He’s taken aback by the sudden suggestive drawl. For the span of a second, the part of Soul that jokes about having feelings for Maka to disguise the fact that he **actually has feelings for Maka** gets its hopes up. But he knows what he’s in for when she starts wiggling her eyebrows. She only ever wiggles her eyebrows when _homework_ is involved.

“Yeah, yeah, I missed your class. Let’s get this over with, Professor Albarn.”


End file.
